


If I Never Knew You

by timeladyofletters



Series: John Doe [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff, Sadness, romantic, theres a mention of suicidal thoughts if you squint really hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 07:43:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5083552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeladyofletters/pseuds/timeladyofletters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on a hunt, the reader runs into the one person she wants most but cannot have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Never Knew You

Waking up with a pounding headache and an upset stomach was quickly becoming a daily routine for you. It was just a side effect of all the drinking you had been doing in the past few weeks.

Opening your heavy lids, you groaned at the sunlight streaming through the dusty curtains of your motel room. You placed your hand on the bedside table, feeling around for your cellphone, before you realized that you weren’t going to find it. You threw it off a bridge two weeks, and never bothered to buy another one. Not that you were expecting any calls anyways.

The last phone call you got was from Sam, on what one of the worst days of your life. The day Charlie died. You blamed yourself of course; you were the one who helped her track down the Book of the Damned. You were the one who left her when she insisted on meeting up with the Winchesters. You were the one who refused to help her when she was trying to decode the book with Cas and that witch.

All because you couldn’t bear the possibility of running into  _him_.

Sam called you after it happened, before he and Dean gave your friend a hunter’s funeral. As soon as you got the news, you hung up on Sam, drove to the nearest bridge, and chucked the damn thing into the water. Sam had no other way of contacting you, and you honestly didn’t care anymore. Your best friend was dead, the love of your life had no memory of you; and yet the world was still spinning.

As much as you wanted to give up and jump off that bridge along with your phone, you still had a job to do. So, you continued to hunt.

You took every job you could find - from lame urban legends to very real and very dangerous hordes of monsters. And you did it all solo. Well, not at first. You used to hunt with Charlie, before she dragged you into her search for the book. It didn’t take much convincing on her part though. No matter what had happened, you still would have done whatever it took to free Dean from the Mark of Cain.

Unfortunately, now that Charlie was gone and you were pretty much off the grid, you now had no idea if the Mark was still on Dean’s arm or not. You had no idea of Charlie’s death was in vain or not.

Maybe that’s what drove you to the brink of alcoholism. You used to frown upon such behavior, especially when it was Dean who was drinking himself into a stupor at odd hours. But now, it was the only way for you to numb the pain and loneliness, even for a few hours.

After you checked the time and realized that you had slept in way past noon, you got suited up for day two of the case you were working on. It seemed simple enough - “animal attacks” in a small town, which you were sure was the work of a werewolf. But there had been another murder the night before, and you had to go to the crime scene and interview the witnesses.

 _Awesome,_  you groaned internally, dreading the day ahead that probably involved a lot of talking to other people. It didn’t help that you were still a little hungover from the night before.

After getting dressed and ready, you surveyed your appearance in the cracked bathroom mirror.  Your hair needed untangling and your FBI suit needed ironing, but those could be easily taken care of. You face, however, was another matter. The dark circles under your dull eyes were stark and prominent against your skin; proof of your late nights and lack of sleep. In addition, the features of your face had hardened over the past eleven months. You couldn’t remember the last time a genuine smile graced your lips.

The light from your eyes and the smile from your lips had been left behind with Dean, and you didn’t want them back. Not without him.

“Suck it up,” you muttered to yourself. Then you grabbed your fake badge and your real gun, and headed off to work.

**************************************************************************

“I’m here to take a look at the crime scene,” you stated briskly as you flashed your badge at a local police officer. The sun was high and the air was muggy. It was way too hot and humid for you to be outside in that black outfit. You wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with your new boyfriends; Jack, Johnny, and Jose.

“I didn’t think an animal attack would draw the attention of two federal agents,” the cop scoffed and lifted the yellow tape to let you through.

You stopped in your tracks. “There’s another agent here?”

“Yeah, some pretty-boy fed with a rock star name. I didn’t know you guys were authorized to drive classic Chevys while you were on duty.”

It was suddenly as if your world had shifted; like it tilted on its axis and then began to spin faster and faster while you struggled to keep steady on your feet. Your first instinct was to turn around and run - run far and run fast. But then his voice called out to you, and you couldn’t move.

“Agent?”

Just like that, Dean Winchester was walking towards you; dressed in his FBI suit and looking so beautiful and perfect that your breath stilled for a moment. It was almost as if he was never in that coma almost a year ago. You almost expected him to wrap you in his arms, to kiss you on the forehead, to do  _something_  that proved he knew who you were. But instead, he held a hand out in a formal and professional gesture.

When you didn’t shake his outstretched hand, he awkwardly slipped it into his pocket and cleared his throat nervously. “I, uh…I didn’t know they were sending someone else on this case. It’s just an animal attack, I got it covered.”

He thought you were an actual fed, and he clearly wanted you to leave so he could hunt down the real monster. You were more than happy to comply.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you said simply. “It’s all yours.”

You started to walk away when he spoke again. “Woah, wait. You’re giving up that easy?”

Refusing to meet his eyes, you just shrugged your shoulders. “I have other places to be. Good luck on your case, Agent.”

With a brief glance at his face - his bright green eyes, starry freckles and full lips - you left.

************************************************************************** 

You changed your clothes, packed your things, and checked out of the motel room as fast as you could. Running into Dean had been a fantasy of yours for months, but you never thought about what you would do if it actually happened. Suffice it to say, you reacted poorly.

As you drove out of town, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that you needed to stay; that you were right where you were supposed to be. That feeling was accompanied by a chill down your spine and a voice in the back of your head that told you to turn back. The sun was setting and it would be dark soon, which meant that Dean would was gearing up for his hunt right about now; if he wasn’t there already. So, against your better judgement, you pulled a U-turn in the middle of the road and headed towards the last crime scene; sounding off as many swear words as you could think of along the way.

When you arrived at the place where the last victim was found, a now abandoned house in a quiet neighborhood, the eerie silence immediately raised your awareness. You knew better than to be fooled but the false tranquility. You looked around before heading to the door, and even through the darkness of the night, you were able to spot the Impala parked just down the street. Dean was already here.

After picking the lock on the front door, you entered the house slowly with your gun drawn; its silver bullets ready and waiting for the monster to show its face. Within seconds, you heard a commotion from the basement. You raced downstairs, just in time to see Dean being thrown into a pile of cardboard boxes.

“Hey, were-mutt!” you called out to the werewolf. It whipped around and snarled at the sight of you. Then it charged.

You waited for the last second, until it was just a foot away, then you dove to the right so it would crash head-first into the concrete wall. When it did, you ran towards Dean, who was still clawing his way out of the pile of boxes on top of him. You grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet, ignoring the surge of electricity that shook you at the very contact of him.

Once he was standing, Dean smirked down at you with what you recognized as his flirty look. “So, I guess neither of us are actual feds, huh?”

Before you could come up with something to say, Dean’s eyes grew wide for a split second and he pulled you around so that you were positioned behind him. The wolf was stirring.

“You got silver bullets in that gun?” he asked, glancing back at you.

You cocked your gun and raised a brow at him for the silly question. “I’d be a pretty crappy hunter if I didn’t,” you told him.

Then both of you aimed at the wolf, and fired.

************************************************************************** 

Dean invited you to a bar for drinks after the werewolf was killed and disposed of.  Your mind warned you that it was a bad idea to stick around any longer, but your heart wasn’t ready to let go of him again. Not yet.

“So, Y/N, how long have you been all  _Buffy the Werewolf Slayer_?” Dean asked, sipping at his beer.

You thought through your answer and decided that you would try to be as honest as possible with him. “For most of my life actually.”

“And you’ve been going at it solo the entire time?” The concern was obvious in his voice, but you weren’t surprised. Dean cared about everyone, even strangers like you. 

“I used to team up with other hunters,” you answered carefully, “but recently I’ve realized that I work better alone.”

“I hear you,” said Dean. “I usually work with my brother, but I needed space for a while, so I left him back home and came here by myself.”

“Oh?” you were curious to know what happened. “Why is that?” Dean frowned a bit, and you were afraid that you had struck a nerve.

“I, uh, I lost one of my best friends a few weeks ago,” Dean explained, and you immediately knew who he was talking about. You still felt the pain from Charlie’s death, but for Dean, it seemed as though the loss was still raw.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured softly, your eyes searching the weariness of his face. “I’ve lost people too.”

Dean nodded solemnly. “Is that what you meant when you said you work better alone?”

“Yeah,” you admitted. “You can’t lose friends when you don’t have them to begin with.”

All of a sudden, Dean’s hand rested on your own on top of the table. His touch was warm, reassuring, and everything you had craved in the past year. “Well I’m sorry to break it to you sweetheart, but you have a friend now.”

Dean flashed a mega-watt grin at you, and you couldn’t stop the corner of your mouth from twitching upwards in an almost-smile. He still had that effect on you. Being there in that bar with Dean, talking about anything and everything, it felt to right. So normal. And for a second, you let yourself believe that it was. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Dean said hesitantly. “I don’t wanna jump the gun here, but how’d you like to hit the road with me? We’ll hunt a bit, drink a bit, and maybe you’ll like it better than being all alone.”

You were taken aback by his offer; it was so unlike him. Sure, he’d let people tag along before, but that was always out of necessity. Your heart raced in your chest, and a part of you screamed to say yes, to go with him and reclaim your life. Something Sam had said to you at the hospital came flooding back to you:  _“He’ll fall for you again in no time, and then the two of you could start over.”_ Maybe he was right, maybe you and Dean had a chance to be together again; memories or not. But then again, there was so much that you had both lost, so much that could never be replaced.

And even attempting to start something with Dean again would force you to have to tell him the truth about what you let Crowley do in order to save his life. If you couldn’t forgive yourself for what you allowed to happen, what was to say that Dean would forgive you? Even if he did, you didn’t deserve his forgiveness, not after you wiped his mind and deserted him when he needed you the most.

The damage had been done, and there was no going back for you.

So you downed the rest of your beer, pulled your hand away from his, and stood up. “Thanks for the offer, Winchester, but I work alone.”

Then you tossed a few bills on the table to cover the drinks and left. Again. It seemed as if walking away from Dean Winchester was quickly becoming your signature move.

************************************************************************** 

At yet another motel room, you plopped down onto the bed and switched on the TV, only to be disinterested with every channel. You soon gave up on trying to find something to distract yourself with, and figured that you may as well go back to drinking; but before you could decide which bottle to open, there was a knock at your door. Gun in hand, you looked through the peephole, and cursed under your breath.

“I know you’re in there, Y/N,” Dean’s voice drifted from the other side of the door. With a sigh, you turned the doorknob and pulled; revealing Dean’s smug face.

“How did you know where to find me?” you asked him, your voice more stern that you meant for it to be.

Dean shrugged his broad shoulders under the trademark flannel shirt. “This is where I would have chosen to spend the night.” He didn’t even wait for an invitation to enter the room, and instead strolled in like he owned the place. Dean examined his surroundings briefly, and then nodded to himself as if he approved of your temporary living conditions.

A few minutes of silence passed between the two of you before you decided to break it. “Why are you here?”

“Do you hate me?” Dean asked immediately, completely taking you aback and not answering your question.

“I…I barely know you,” you stammered. That was a lie; you knew him better than you knew yourself.

“Well you hightailed it out of that bar pretty fast after I asked you to work with me,” he pointed out. There was no anger or malice in his voice; if anything, he sounded worried. You refused to address that statement; not daring to trust your tongue to withhold the truth.

Dean slowly took a step towards you, breaching upon dangerously close proximity to your personal space. “What aren’t you telling me, Y/N?” his rough voice soothed.

You heart sped up and your breath became shallow as those green eyes pierced into yours, and you were compelled to speak again. “Why do you care?”

He let out a low, short chuckle, “You’re deflecting.”

“So are you.”

You and Dean had reached an impasse; both of you too stubborn to give anything else away. Someone was going to have to budge eventually, and with a heavy sigh, you figured that you may as well make the next move.

“Fine,” you relented. “You remind me of someone. Someone I lo-,” you couldn’t say the word ‘loved’. “Someone I lost.” You sat down on the bed and ran your fingers over the worn blanket beneath you. Tears began to well in your eyes, betraying your carefully crafted facade of indifference. Your defenses were cracking.

Dean took a seat beside you; not too close, but not too far either. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said sincerely. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

You considered it for a moment but then shook your head ‘no’. How could you possibly talk to Dean about Dean?

“Well, uh,” Dean started, rubbing the back of his neck in a telltale sign of anxiety. “I think I know how you feel. Can I tell you about it?”

Your curiosity got the better of you, and you motioned for Dean to tell his story.

************************************************************************** 

“Like I told you back at the bar, one of my best friends died a few weeks ago,” Dean began.

He took in a breath, as if this was all difficult to talk about. “After Charlie died, I got an e-mail from her with a huge file attached. She was pretty crafty that way. The file was filled with information - maps, phone numbers, locations, addresses, lore; all tracing back to one person. And the e-mail had only one line of text:  _Find her and bring her home_.”

Your eyes widened as you realized what your friend had done.

“I looked through the data Charlie collected, but none of it made much sense to me. Not that I had the time anyways, some big things were going down at the same time, but that’s a whole other story. Obviously she was keeping tabs on someone, it was A+ detective work. Or stalker work, I guess.” 

“A few days later, Sam and a witch used some kamikaze level spell to remove the Mark of Cain from my arm,” he tugged up his shirt sleeve to show his unmarred skin. “It also somehow freed the Darkness, which is still a huge question mark right now but so far its been a whole lot of bad.”

“Wow,” you whispered, unsure of how to react to this news. He was finally free of the Mark; you wanted to jump for joy.

“Yeah, well, the spell that unlocked the Darkness, it did something else too. It made me remember. It made me remember you, Y/N.”

The dam broke, and the tears had finally begun to streak down your face, yet you didn’t dare say a word.

“Sam said he lost contact with you after Charlie died, and no matter what we did, we couldn’t track you down. So I went to the last location we knew of and then tried to follow your trail from there. I know you didn’t want to be found, Y/N, but I needed to see you. I needed to know that you were okay.”

You stood abruptly and faced the wall, unwilling to let him see your tears. He knew, he _remembered_. You never dared to dream that this would happen. “Why did you pretend not to know me?” you asked, holding back a sob.

“I hated doing that, believe me,” Dean assured, his voice sounding close behind you. “but I thought you were better off without me. I didn’t want to storm into your new life and destroy everything.”

Turning to finally look at him, you weren’t surprised to see that he had also stood up from the bed. “That’s exactly why I haven’t come back. I did enough damage by letting you go off on your own that day, I started all of this.”

“No,” Dean shook his head and pointed to his chest, “that’s all on me, Y/N. I couldn’t deal with my issues, so I bailed. You were all alone because of me, because I was selfish. You should never have had to turn to Crowley for help, it wasn’t worth it.”

“Dean, I have a lot of regrets in my life, but that decision? I’d do it again. If it were to save your life, I would do it all over again.”

“And I would die so you  _wouldn’t_  have to do it again.”

There was another pause as the two of you stared at each other, acknowledging how stubborn you both were. Dean clenched his jaw, causing the muscle there to jump, and you loosened your fingers from the fists you were making. There was no hostility in this debate; you and Dean weren’t arguing against each other. You were arguing  _for_  each other.

Dean looked away quickly, first to the side and then down to his feet. “Do you…do you still lo-”

Before he could finish the question, you took two steps towards him, placed your palms on the sides of his face, and pressed your lips to his. He was startled at first, as if he wasn’t expecting it, but he soon relaxed into you. You brushed along his lower lip with your tongue and he opened to you while his arms wound around your waist and held you close to him.

“Of course I still love you, Dean,” you whispered against his lips between kisses. “I never stopped.”

Dean pulled back to look into your eyes, and for a second, you were terrified that he didn’t feel the same way about you. Instead, he leaned his forehead down to rest against yours and murmured, “I love you too, Y/N. Even when I didn’t know who you were, I always loved you.”

You didn’t know what he meant by that, but his words rang of truth. With your arms wrapped around each other, you and Dean stood in place for a long time, just holding on for dear life.

“Where do we go from here?” you asked him quietly after a while.

“Home,” he answered simply. “If that’s alright with you, of course.”

 _Home_. You heart was full and brimming over now. You were getting your life back. “We still have a lot to work through,” you told him.

Dean smiled down at you warmly, green eyes crinkling at the corners. “Then we’ll work through it together; you and me. And we’ll come out on the other side even stronger than ever.”

Then he kissed you again; a kiss full of so much love and longing that you couldn’t fathom how you ever managed to let him go in the first place. And you knew, without a doubt, that everything was finally going to be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Your reactions to this series have been the BEST, and I’m so sorry for this ending. I wish it had more drama, action, and a better climax; but that would have forced me to have to write yet another installment OR end it even sadder than before. I hope you guys are okay with me wrapping it up this way. Also, I’ve never been into the whole “need my significant other in order to function properly” thing (a la Bella in New Moon), but I figured that true love is a difficult enough thing for ordinary people to come across, therefore its almost an impossibility for hunters. So losing your love, especially when its Dean Winchester, would be an absolute tragedy. Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think :)


End file.
